


Truth or Consequences

by foramomentonly



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cheating, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Smut, Sort Of, forlex, previous Miluca, truth pollen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foramomentonly/pseuds/foramomentonly
Summary: Malex is dosed with truth pollen and you'd think they'd have a damn conversation, but oops! they fuck first. Chapter One is smut, Chapter Two will be actual, legitimate, adult conversation. Eventually.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 41
Kudos: 116





	Truth or Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> I don't love this, but I've been writing it for more than two months at this point, I think, and I'm beyond done with it. I hope it is worth the wait, I hope you enjoy it, I hope that I will be out with Chapter Two in a much more timely manner.

Alex searches for Michael in his bunker first, but finds it empty. He grumbles all the way back up the ladder, cursing Michael for texting him needing files on research performed at Caufield and then not bothering to be in his lab, _where he_ _performs experiments and does research._ The frustration feels hesitant, but thick as it fills his lungs with hot, heavy air. Unspoken and unacknowledged, a tentative and stiff sort of stalemate had settled between Michael and Alex in the eerie stillness of the aftermath of the past year’s chaos. Maria had ended things with Michael; Michael had stood silently with warm, gleaming eyes, bearing witness to Alex’s affirmations of their bittersweet history set to a lilting melody, and then had bowed out; and Alex had curled up in a window booth at the Crashdown with Forrest, committing to something easy and open. They no longer fight or poke bruises or make demands, and they don't grope for one another in darkness, either. There's too much to break now, the radius of collateral damage stretched too wide; Maria taught them that. 

Being close enough to Michael Guerin again to be inconvenienced by him throws Alex off-center, and he blames this feeling for both the excited fluttering of his pulse and his failure to knock before pulling open the door of the Airstream and hauling himself up the short half-step.

“Guerin?” he calls, but any future words die in his throat as Michael strides out of the tiny bathroom, dripping wet with an ugly yellow towel clinging precariously to his hips.

"What're you doing in here?!" Michael demands, barrelling towards Alex and pulling the door quickly shut with his telekinesis. "I texted you to just leave the files in my truck and go. I don't want you  _ here _ !"

Alex shakes his head, confused and a little hurt.

"I don't get great reception this far out," he explains. "Guerin, what's going on?"

Michael huffs and abruptly steps into Alex's space to cup his head, angling it gently one way, then the other, eyes intent as he studies Alex, the tenderness of his touch and the concern in his eyes at odds with his sharp words.

"I picked up my mail this afternoon and there was an unmarked envelope," he explains, sliding his hands down the sides of Alex's neck to feel his glands and then pressing two fingers to his throat, checking the rhythm of his fluttering pulse. "I opened it without thinking and some kind of blue powder dispersed into the air. I feel amped up, but I’m fine. There doesn't seem to be any surface contamination, but I have no idea what the hell this stuff is or what it does. That's why I needed the files. You weren't supposed to bust in here like a wild horse. I didn't want you potentially exposed. I was trying to  _ protect _ you. I'd lose my shit if something happened to you."

Michael presses his lips together, his brow furrowed in confusion, as though he’d let slip one more errant thought than expected. Alex shakes his head, attempting to process the meaning of Michael's words as well as the sheer volume and sincerity of them. They stay well away from emotional confessionals these days, and it's this more than anything that sets Alex's thoughts in motion. 

"Blue powder?" he repeats.

Michael nods.

"Ring any bells?" he asks, stepping back as he finishes his exam, and Alex's skin is instantly chilled as Michael's hands slip away.

"There was a compound," Alex begins, falling into a recitation of facts to escape his mounting concern. "Experimental, but effective. In raw form it was a blue powder."

"You got that dead-eyed look," Michael says, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "I'm guessing it doesn't make flowers grow."

"I-it was an interrogation tool," Alex answers unsteadily. "Like a truth pollen. Subjects spoke their mind, their thoughts freely. Uncontrollably. They couldn't stop themselves."

He’s distracted, watching the flex of Michael’s biceps where he holds them tense across his body and following a small bead of water as it rolls down the tan skin of Michael’s collarbone and into the dark nest of hair on his chest. Alex is used to swallowing down this feeling, this decade-old pull of lust, of kindred between them; familiar company at this point, but never as distant as he expects, even after ten years and countless  _ good-byes _ and new bodies, new loves separating them. Alex is used to pushing down, pushing through this feeling, but he isn’t prepared to have to swallow the words that would expose him, suddenly at the tip of his tongue and ready to wriggle out through his teeth. This is new, and it takes him a moment to press it down, to address Michael evenly.

Alex searches out the right file from his discarded bag and hands it over, but he feels restless, tapping his fingers in a chaotic rhythm against his thigh as Michael flips the pages. He feels his blood racing, and every fleeting thought piles heavy on his tongue, crowding his mouth. The moment Michael's gaze flits from the folder in his hand to Alex, Alex blurts, "I'm worried. I think we've both been affected."

Michael raises a brow, setting the file on the counter, and says, "Well, you just expressed an emotion without a running countdown clock and I can’t keep my fucking mouth shut, so I'm pretty sure you're right."

Alex nods to himself, ignoring the sharp edges of the words; he knows they're Michael's, no denying it, but he also knows Michael didn't choose them. He quietly begins to panic, and as thoughts churn and coalesce in his mind, words like  _ truth  _ and  _ Michael  _ and  _ shitshitshit _ are cobbled together into a myriad of combinations that all seem to end with Alex raw and exposed, and this delicate armistice with Michael in jagged tatters at his feet. Alex realizes with a suffocating dread that his tenuous hold on his own closely-guarded truths, on the will to swallow them down, is growing weaker by the minute. 

He blinks, refocuses, and Michael is watching him from across the small belly of the Airstream.

"You're about to run," he states blankly, just as Alex mumbles, "I should go."

Alex makes a helpless gesture and turns toward the door, but before he even completes his rotation, he hears the sharp scrape of the lock turning, and casts an exasperated look at Michael over his shoulder. 

“I can’t stay here, Guerin,” he says, but Michael is already shaking his head.

“I can’t let you leave,” Michael answers firmly. “You don’t know who you could run into out there, Alex, or what you might tell them. Pretty sure that’s what whoever sent me the powder was hoping for in the first place.”

“ _ I can’t stay here with you _ ,” Alex pleads, stepping closer to Michael. It’s all he intends to say, his meaning clear in the wild heat of his eyes and the insistent desperation of his voice, but instead his thoughts flow out of his mouth like the breaking of a dam. “I’m more scared of what I might say to  _ you  _ than to anyone else.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Michael breathes, “I  _ know _ , okay? I don’t exactly wanna bare my soul to you tonight, either."

"Why not?" Alex asks, his first thought vocalized almost as soon as it manifests, and he immediately shakes his head. "Don't answer that," he commands, but Michael's lips are already moving, honey eyes round and panicked even as he begins to speak.

" _ Shit _ , Alex,” he grits, glaring at him even as words pour out of his mouth. “Because this past year was  _ beyond  _ fucked up, and you and me are barely keeping it together already. Because you seem happy with that Long guy, and I—"

And Alex snaps, does the only thing he  _ knows  _ shuts Michael up and leaves him gasping, breathless;  _ speechless _ . He crowds into Michael's space, takes Michael's face roughly between his palms, and kisses him, sucking Michael's tongue into his mouth along with all the words he's desperate  _ not _ to hear.

Michael grunts in surprise, lips already parted when Alex's mouth covers his, but he answers in kind, gripping Alex's shoulders and biting at his bottom lip, pausing to brush a thumb over the indent he's left and then diving back in, dipping his tongue into Alex's mouth like fingers into still, cool water. They press close on instinct as they continue, Alex's fingers tangled in Michael's curls, Michael's broad palms on the warm skin of Alex's back where they've slipped under his layers. Michael groans and tugs Alex's body closer with a hand on his hip even as the other grips Alex's shirt and presses a fist into his shoulder, pushing him back.

"What are we doing?" he pants into the inches of space between their parted lips. "This is really,  _ really  _ stupid."

Alex presses his forehead to Michael's, shaking his head, and says, "What was I supposed to do? Just let you fucking  _ talk _ ?"

"No, no," Michael agrees, "that's definitely worse, I—Shit, I can't—"

Michael interrupts his own helpless babbling with a frustrated growl, surging forward to kiss Alex again, sloppy and bruising, lips still moving even as he slides his tongue across the seam of Alex's mouth. Their kisses are frantic, insistent; they've always used physicality and sex to communicate, and now the hot slide of Michael's tongue against the roof of Alex's mouth is a whole sentence unspoken, but Alex is for once grateful that their fatal flaw is an inability to translate touch into meaning. Alex feels Michael half hard against his thigh and he leans into it, offering firm pressure against Michael's stiff cock. He feels the vibrations of Michael's moan against his lips more than he hears it. It's reckless and it's hot and, best of all, it's  _ distracting _ .

"Ok," Michael gasps as they break apart, nodding a little hysterically and working the buttons on Alex's shirt open with deft fingers. "Ok, yeah, let's just do it. Let's keep each other—"

"Quiet?" Alex supplies, and Michael flashes a dirty grin, pushing Alex's shirt off his shoulders and tossing aside the towel hanging from his own hips by a prayer before laying Alex out on the tiny, cramped bed, crawling over him on hands and knees and settling his naked body heavily atop Alex's like a spoiled pet claiming territory.

"I hope not," he growls, and rolls his hips deliberately, pressing Alex's legs open and rubbing his stiffening cock against the rough fabric of Alex's jeans, hissing at the scratch of it against his sensitive skin.

"You like that, don't you?" Alex asks, the question as much in earnest as it is a tease. "You like it a little rough?"

"Yeah," Michael confesses, and Alex grips his hips to keep him in place, thrusting into him short and hard, relishing in Michael's grunts as much as in the dull friction against his own cock.

"Good to know," he murmurs, pulling Michael closer with a bruising grip on his biceps, and Michael practically falls into him, bare chest pressed against Alex's, face buried in the pocket of Alex's neck and shoulder.

Alex runs both hands over the smooth terrain of Michael’s back as Michael sucks wet kisses down his neck. There's a lingering chill in the early spring air outside the trailer and inside isn't much warmer, but the inhuman blaze of Michael's body covering him and the flush of his own arousal warms Alex from cheek to chest, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he tilts his chin, presenting his throat to Michael in a silent plea.

“God, I love how warm you are,” he pants. “Used to think it was cuz of me. That I made you burn.”

“You do,” Michael says in a rush, lips brushing against Alex’s skin as he kisses his way down Alex’s chest. “Feels like fire when you touch me, Alex. No one else.”

Alex groans, lifts his hips when Michael opens his jeans with clumsy, trembling fingers and slides them quickly off, along with Alex’s underwear, burying his nose in the hinge of Alex’s groin and running teasing hands up and down the inside of Alex’s thighs as he presses them open wider. His fingers catch on the edge of the sleeve of Alex's prosthesis and Michael lifts his head, whispers, "I wanna take it off for you. I know how, I swear."

"Go ahead," Alex replies simply. "I trust you."

Michael smiles so sweet, ducks his head and presses his mouth to the bend of Alex's knee, and he can feel Michael's breath hot on his kneecap as he peels back the sleeve and soon the liner, whispered thoughts Alex isn't meant to hear absorbed by skin and bone. Michael sets Alex's leg and liner carefully aside and traces his nose and the tip of his tongue slowly—"Too slow," Alex whines, and Michael huffs a laugh—up Alex's inner thigh as he settles back between Alex's open legs. The sight of Michael there, golden curls soft and tangled, is familiar, too familiar, and Alex’s blood pulses and he opens his mouth to moan; instead, confessions spill out.

“Dreamt about your mouth on me last night,” he whispers. “Woke up so hard for you, Michael.”

“ _ Good _ ,” is what comes out of Michael’s mouth as he brushes his wet lips up and down the shaft of Alex’s cock. “Bet Long can’t suck you like I do.” 

Alex is completely powerless to stop the soft, but insistent, “ _ No _ ,” that slips out with his next breath, and he freezes, looking down at Michael, who raises his head to stare at Alex in shock. 

“He’s good,” Alex hears himself babble, brings the heels of his palms up to his eyes to shield himself from the impact of the words flowing out of him. “He does everything right, he just—he’s not—” Alex interrupts himself with a deep groan as Michael’s hot, wet mouth envelopes his cock all at once, and the small part of his brain still capable of rational thinking recognizes it as the act of rescue it was intended to be. 

His thoughts go fuzzy and disconnected as Michael sucks him slow and deliberate, running his soft tongue up and down Alex’s shaft, suckling the sensitive head of his cock and licking pre-cum off the tip like ice cream from a cone, cupping and rolling Alex’s balls in his hand. All the coherence Alex manages for several agonizingly perfect minutes is soft praise and obscenities that flow out of his mouth like water. 

He slides his fingers into Michael’s hair as Michael takes him deeper, scratching lightly at his scalp and tugging on his curls to make him moan, Michael’s throat fluttering around Alex's cock. Michael hums low and the vibrations make Alex’s toes curl. He feels tendrils of heat curling up his spine as Michael swallows around him and he tugs harder in warning. Michael lets out a soft whine of complaint.

“Don’t make me come,” Alex begs. “Wanna fuck you. Want you to sit on my cock. Love to watch. You’re so beautiful, so  _ natural _ . Like you were made for it.”

The moment Michael pulls his mouth off of Alex’s cock with an obscene slurp, he’s murmuring, “I’ll do anything you want. Want to be good for you, Alex, always.”

“You are,” Alex answers, breathless, and he pulls Michael up his body with both hands fisted tight in his curls, sitting up to meet him halfway. “You are, you are,  _ God _ .”

Alex presses his sweaty forehead to Michael’s, leaning in for a desperate kiss, but he’s unable to silence himself in time. Against Michael’s mouth he whispers, “You're too good. Don't know if I can be with anyone else the way I am with you.”

His lips cover Michael’s before Michael can respond. Alex feels Michael shake his head even as he’s pushing at Alex’s shoulders, coaxing him to sit back against the low wall that serves as Michael's headboard and climbing into Alex’s lap, his hand slipping beneath the sheets and reappearing with a small bottle. Michael presses it into Alex’s chest, stuffing his own mouth full of Alex’s fingers to keep himself quiet.

“ _ Fuck _ , your oral fixation is so hot,” Alex groans. “Help me, I can’t—”

He waves the lube in the air between them and Michael snatches it from him, popping the cap and coating three fingers of Alex’s free hand liberally. Michael guides Alex’s hand around to his ass with a tight grip on Alex’s wrist, eyes wide and wet and desperate.

"Can't wait to feel you again," Alex says, dragging his dripping fingers down Michael's crack and pressing gently at his hole, rubbing it in soft circles and slowly sneaking the tip of his index finger inside. "You open up so sweet for me, Michael, come on."

Michael sucks greedily on Alex's fingers in his mouth as Alex works him open, gentle pressure giving way to an easy glide as he presses one, then two, and finally three thick fingers into Michael's hole, twisting and spreading the digits as he fucks Michael with insistent tenderness. As he works, Alex let's slip a soft chorus of  _ yeah _ s and  _ that's it _ , but his more damning truths are thankfully drowned out by the tenor of his desire. __

When Alex's long fingers brush teasingly against his swollen prostate for what must be the hundredth time, Michael whines and pulls Alex's soaked fingers out of his mouth, saliva dripping down his chin. 

"Need it  _ now _ ," he groans and braces himself on Alex's shoulders as Alex pulls his fingers gently away. Michael shuffles forward, gripping Alex's cock between them and sinking onto it in one slow, steady drop. When he's fully seated, he pauses, spreading his knees wider and shifting in Alex's lap.

"God, you feel so  _ good _ ," Alex whispers, gripping the muscle of Michael's thighs, digging the tips of his fingers into the hollows of Michael's hip bones as Michael settles on top of him with a low groan. "Needed this. Need you close, hate how far away you always are."

" _ Alex _ ," Michael whines, and the wet shine of his eyes tells Alex that he’s overwhelmed by Alex's words as much as by the feel of being full of him again after so long—too long.

"Move," Alex begs, wrapping his arms low around Michael's back and tipping his head forward to press restless kisses to his collarbone. "Shut me up,  _ please _ . Can't even  _ think _ when you're fucking me."

Using his palms on Alex's shoulders for leverage, Michael rises up on his knees until only the head of Alex's cock is snug inside him and drops heavily down again, moaning loud and in harmony with Alex.

" _ Fuck _ , yeah," Michael groans. "Missed your cock. Love being full of you."

Alex drops his head back against the wall with a soft  _ thud _ , watching Michael move above him through heavy-lidded eyes. He thrusts his hips up, driving himself into Michael in rhythmic waves, and Michael gasps, rolling his body in time with Alex's. They move together fluidly, chests pressed close and parted lips brushing, whispers of errant thoughts and confessions escaping between panted breaths and deep, sloppy kisses. Most are spoken too breathlessly or too slurred to be understood; the rest pass between them unacknowledged. 

Alex's arms eventually tighten around Michael's waist and he urges Michael to lean back, the new angle allowing Alex to grind deep, hitting Michael's most sensitive spot over and over. Michael's back arches and one hand sneaks down to his leaking cock to squeeze himself at the base, hissing.

"Already?" Alex asks breathlessly, smirking, and Michael works his hips faster in retaliation. Alex's mouth drops open on a whine and his eyes fall shut in pleasure.

"You, too," Michael teases, cupping Alex’s neck and brushing his thumbs across Alex’s cheekbones. "Love that face you make when you’re close. Tell me I make you feel good, Alex,  _ please _ ." 

He squeezes deliberately around Alex's cock, and Alex digs blunt fingernails into the taut muscles of his ass. 

“Make me feel  _ so _ good,” Alex groans. “Never last long with you.” 

Michael gives Alex a wicked smile and pulls himself up slowly, clenching around Alex as he goes, and drops down again, fucking himself slow and deep on Alex’s cock, whining Alex’s name over and over. And even though Alex is drowning in physical sensation, even though Michael is all tight, wet heat around his swollen cock and Alex feels his orgasm building fast and inevitable, he can’t contain the crest of emotion that always comes with being so close, so connected.

"You’re so good, sweetheart," he pants. "Love you, Michael, I— _ fuck. _ "

Michael shakes his head, sweaty curls falling into his eyes, and he brings Alex's hand to his cock, wrapping it around himself and guiding Alex to jerk him tight and a little rough.

"Don't," he pleads, voice low and deep and trembling. "Don't. Just—Make me come, Alex,  _ please _ —"

"I'm sorry," Alex says breathlessly, striping Michael's cock steady and sure as Michael writhes in his lap, chasing his release. Heat simmers and rises in Alex's groin, and he knows he won’t be far behind. "I'm sorry, I can't—" He bites his lip, but it's no use, and he squeezes the head of Michael's cock and breathes, "I love you."

Michael comes hard around him with a choked-off groan, jerking in Alex's arms and spilling all over his chest and hand where it's wrapped around Michael's cock. There's betrayal in Michael's honey eyes, but as he goes boneless and allows Alex to lay him down on his back across the bed, to come inside him after only a few more pumps, the words that spill out of his mouth are, "God, I love you."

They breathe together into the silence of the small space, Alex's mind blissfully empty post-orgasm and Michael's apparently the same.

"Tired," Michael finally mumbles and guides Alex to roll off of him, reaching blindly over the edge of the bed and lifting his discarded towel from the floor. He offers it first to Alex to wipe himself clean of their mess, then passes it between his own legs before tossing it over the side of the bed. He pulls the thin sheet over them both and shifts onto his side to stare at Alex with surprisingly alert eyes.

"I need to know you’re gonna stay," Michael says firmly. "I can't wake up from this and you're just gone, Alex."

Alex reaches over, threads his fingers with Michael's and squeezes.

"I'll be here," he breathes, turning his head on his pillow to hold Michael's gaze. He doesn't even try to stop himself from whispering, "I'll always be here, Michael."

Michael nods and his eyes fall shut, breath evening out after only a few minutes. Alex quickly learns he can think in silence absent another conscious person to whom he might spill his secrets, but the discovery is irrelevant; sex with Michael might have shattered their careful friendship and tainted the breezy simplicity of his relationship with Forrest, but it also never fails to leave Alex sated, warm, and lazy, and he slips into unconsciousness watching Michael’s lashes flutter prettily in his sleep, his soft curls flattened against his temple by the lumpy pillow.


End file.
